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The daemons are coming. I felt them before I heard them. I knew what they wanted; I knew what they wanted to do to me. I shudder. I look around -desperate to hold on to something. Anything. In a daze, I begin chanting. It works for a while, buys me some time. I start planning a distraction. Reality kills my plans. I know that those plans will never work. I still try, mostly because of a lack of options. I think they can sense fear, the daemons, I mean. They gather courage , edge closer, cautiously at first and then with increasing manic energy. I don’t want them to come closer. I pray. I hear laughter in my head, praying? Really?, I wait for an escape. The daemons are closer now, I can feel them in my skin. Pain. Fear. Anger. Where is my escape? “Go away, you are not welcome” , I beg. More manic laughter.